


The Silence in your Eyes

by K4nspachi



Series: Deepest fears, deepest desires [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8944297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K4nspachi/pseuds/K4nspachi
Summary: "Dean. I am so, so sorry." Castiel started to speak, gesturing helplessly with his hands. Dean raised his hand slightly, shutting the angel up immediately. Bitterness and anger rose up in him, a wildfire burning through his body. Groveling wasn't going to work. Not this time."It's been three days, Cass. And now you have time to visit me?" Dean spoke with some difficulty, the words slurring together, every syllable reminding him of the bruises on his jaw. Alternative ending for the crypt scene and the aftermath of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that popped into my head after binging on Supernatural. What if Castiel didn't heal Dean in the crypt after he broke free of Naomi's influence?  
> I haven't written any fanfics for a while now, so I wanted to give myself a little exercise to see how writing feels like after a break. And since the show seems to be all about the boys gazing into one other's eyes, you can read this either way. For me, Castiel seems to know what he's on about, Dean on the other hand doesn't. And yes, I chose to go with Cass instead of Cas, so sue me :----D  
> Not a native speaker here, so any corrections with the grammar you might have are gladly received, so is general feedback.

"Come on Cass, this isn't you. We're family."

The raspy words echoed in the crypt, the undisturbed dust floating peacefully in the dim light. Nobody had set their foot inside the ancient crypt in ages, judging by its' dry, decayed smell. Dean gathered his waning strength to speak out again.

"Cass, we need you." Dean wavered on his knees, his hand hesitantly touching the angel's worn-out sleeve of his familiar jacket, his silent form looming over him. Castiel had really worked him over, half of his face swelling from countless bruises. Blood stained his upper lip and teeth, a crushing reminder that he was utterly helpless in front of God's soldiers when push came to shove. Castiel had hit him over and over again, sharp pain shredding in his face and broken wrist. He still held on Dean's arm with his relentless grip, and he really didn't how was he gonna come up topside in this situation anymore.

"I need you." The words were so incoherent, so broken, Dean could hardly understand it was still him who voiced them. There was a not a hint of recognition in Castiel's eyes, when the angel stared emotionlessly down at him. It was not Castiel doing this, Dean reminded himself, clinging to hope that he could break through this cold mask. Dean would've begged more, would've done anything if it meant bringing the angel back from whatever he was going through. He opened his bruised lips for a silent prayer, and as he raised his unfocused eyes to meet Castiel's stormy blue ones, he saw a subtle sign that a violent inner battle was still raging inside him. Dean had no idea what Castiel was fighting inside his own mind, but he had to hope with every ounce of his faith that the angel was strong enough.

"Cass", he mouthed the syllable with great difficulty in attempt to coax the angel to hear him, to see him, to see what he was doing. Dean's strength was fading fast, breathing becoming ever more labored. _Please_ , he thought. _Please stop_. Castiel's fist stayed motionless at his side, but Dean could see he was struggling hard, as shadows of the conflict passed through his worn features.

And suddenly the crushing grip on his broken wrist disappeared when Castiel released his arm. Dean couldn't suppress the cry of anguish as the swollen arm slumped heavily against the floor, shades of hazy red and black engulfing his vision. When the insistent black dots stopped swimming in his eyes, he saw the angel kneeling slowly and taking the angel tablet in his hand. A sudden, bright glow blinded him, chasing away every last shadow in the room. Dean shut his eyes against the hurting light, and opened them carefully only when the angel tablet had stopped announcing its divinity to the whole world. Had Cass broken free? Dean blinked, willing his abused eyes to sharpen his vision. He tried silently to force Castiel's troubled eyes back on him, to confirm it was really him again, but before he could voice his plea, the angel disappeared without a sound.

"Cass?" He whispered in confusion, after what seemed an eternity. The room was quiet and no one was there to answer him. Castiel was gone. Dean blinked again, too exhausted and pained to even feel his usual annoyance at the angels' tendency to disappear without a word. Why would he just leave? It made no sense. Dean swayed in his half-crouched position, feeling all at once the heaviness of his limbs and how the darkness seemed to creep closer like a comforting presence. Every breath came with difficulty, his battered body protesting all movement. Dean carefully lifted the broken arm to his lap, trying not pass out from the pain and barely succeeding. He clenched his jaw in resolution, determined to stay awake. In case Castiel was coming back. And he was. Dean didn't let any thoughts doubting that burrow further into his mind. Cursing seemed to help with keeping darkness at bay, and he let out long strings of barely recognizable swear words, muttered under his ragged breath, while he settled his back carefully against the ancient grave behind him, leaning heavily against the rock.

Then it slowly started to hit Dean when he persistently fought against losing his consciousness. He stubbornly kept his eyes open, ready to give the angel his most efficient death glare, eyes swollen shut or not, when he came back. But Castiel didn't, no matter how he waited. He was not coming back. The exhaustion and irritation mixed with worry started to give space to a darker feeling. Betrayal. Castiel had left him here. The thought hit him worse than the fist of a brainwashed angel. Castiel had left him here, broken by his hands, and had deemed it more important to save a goddamn rock than Dean. They had always shared a tight bond, but now Dean could feel tiny strings severing from it, making the connection thinner, frayed. The blood seeping from tiny wounds in his mouth tasted even more sour at this revelation. And he suddenly wanted to welcome that darkness. He stopped resisting the inevitable surrender, closing his eyes at last. Dean started sinking further down, past the red screaming hurt, both physical and emotional, knowing there was a bitter oblivion in the bottom of that abyss.

"-an? Dean?" A frantic voice disturbed his drowning. Dean's eyelids felt heavy and he didn't want to come back.

"Dean, come on. Wake up, man." Sam. Sam's voice drifted in and out of Dean's focus, but he started reluctantly climbing back to conscience, feeling his brother's warm hands on his shoulders, grounding him to this existence. He let out a small sound that was meant to be reassuring to his brother, _I'm okay, don't fuss over me_ , but it came out as a feeble croak past his swollen lips.

"Dean, you're okay. Come on, I got you." Sam's voice sounded calmer, as if he finally had grasped the situation. _It's all wrong_ , Dean wanted say, _I'm supposed to have your back_ , but he was so tired. Cool fingers cupped his still undamaged cheek, and Dean opened his eyes obediently, although his other eye had swollen almost shut. Sam smiled worriedly, a little relieved twitch of his lips.

"Hey. What happened?" Dean blinked blearily the shadows away, trying to gather his strength to convince there was nothing to worry about. Sam still held onto him, and Dean feared that without his constant presence he would've crumbled.

"Castiel...has the tablet." He slurred out the words, tasting blood, painfully noticing how sluggish his entire face felt. Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, ready to shoot more questions that filled in the blanks, but the bare devastation in Dean's features stopped him.

"He left. Castiel... He left, Sammy." The words weren't supposed to come out so brokenly, but it all was a mess and red agony and the walls around his carefully concealed vulnerabilities were crushing down. Sam still had that look, _don't worry brother, everything's okay_ , and Dean desperately wanted to believe him.

"Come on. We need you to get fixed up." Sam gave him a little pat on the shoulder, and Dean latched on to the comfort given, allowing himself this one moment of weakness.

* * *

 

Dean had heard the flutter of wings moments ago, but he laid motionlessly on the hospital bed, trying to forget the unwanted presence in the room. It was nighttime already, the room was quiet, with the occasional car driving past the hospital somewhere down below in the street. He had gotten out of the respirator the day before, but iv-tubes and morphine were still steadily dripping into his healthy arm. Dean was particularly glad of the latter, as the painkillers numbed his numerous aches to a level where he could actually sleep. A restless, dark sleep, but sleep nonetheless. His other hand rested useless on a raised pillow, a white cast enveloping his broken wrist. Sam had threatened to mess around and draw something fittingly dirty on the cast but despite Dean being asleep most of the time, he never made good on his threat. His kid brother was just trying to lighten him up and Dean loved him for that. Sometimes the silence in the hospital room seemed so heavy it could crush the life out of Dean when he got trapped in his thoughts and Sam was always there, like the loyal brother he was, to pick him up. Dean tried to brush it off, smile a stiff smile that must've look terrible with a half of his face in different shades of purple. Sam would smile back, completely aware that the carefully constructed facade was fake and he would try harder. And Dean loved him for that, but sometimes it was tiring and he needed to be.

Dean's wandering focus was brought back to present time by an awkward shuffling coming from the chair on the other side of the room, but still he made no effort to notice the angel, his face facing the wall, heavy eyelids drooping like heavy curtains, calling him back to feverish dreams.

"Dean." A deep voice called out to him quietly. Dean let out a light sigh. He had no energy left for this battle. Still he turned around slowly, opening his healthy eye to face Castiel. The angel looked disheveled, his black hair messy, clothes crumpled and dark rings around his deep blue eyes. Castiel straightened in the uncomfortable chair when their gazes met, face portraying spectrum of emotions at once. Relief, horror at his handiwork, anxiety, exhaustion, and above all regret.

"Dean. I am so, so sorry." Castiel started to speak, gesturing helplessly with his hands. Dean raised his hand slightly, shutting the angel up immediately. Bitterness and anger rose up in him, a wildfire burning through his body. Groveling wasn't going to work. Not this time.

"It's been three days, Cass. And now you have time to visit me?" Dean spoke with some difficulty, the words slurring together, every syllable reminding him of the bruises on his jaw. Three days to stew on his own crap. Sam could distract him only so much, and they both knew that Dean's worst enemy was himself and the endless beatings he gave himself. It filled him with anger that he was helpless against; like a stone sinking into the murky waters, and he needed to lash out.

"You are badly hurt. I will heal you. You shouldn't suffer like this for my wrongdoings." Castiel's voice had gotten more quiet, heavy with sorrow. He stood up and walked closer to Dean's bedside, but Dean curled his fingers to a fist and shot an angry look at the angel hovering over him.

"No. Don't bother." Castiel was taken aback by his words, hurt evident in his eyes.

"Dean, please, I can fix it-"

"Get the hell away!" Dean growled louder this time, immediately regretting the outburst, as pain blossomed and swept him away. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to regain his control, breathing raggedly through his nose. He heard tentative footsteps, and he forced his eyes open to glare at the angel still edging closer to his side.

"Dean, I understand that you're angry, but I had no other choice but to take the angel tablet with me. After I broke free of their grasp, the other angels -Naomi... They were after me. They would've gone after you too if I had stayed around. The tablet is safe now, if it's any comfort to you." Castiel stood there like a man grasping at last straws, looking for any kind of forgiveness in Dean's eyes. And not finding any. Dean had to find his voice to speak, few shallow breaths coming out empty.

"It-it's not a comfort. And you can shove the angel tablet up your ass." Castiel stared at him, silent, and Dean could practically see from his rigidness that he was trying not show the invisible lashes Dean dealt him.

"You don't mean that." Castiel said quietly after a moment of discomforting silence, standing stiffly in the middle of the dark hospital room. Street lights illuminated his figure from the window across the room, and suddenly Dean was remembering an instant from the past, from another life it felt like, Castiel sitting by his hospital bed, Dean shedding some discouraged tears when the fight against the apocalypse had felt like it was too much. The horrible feeling of helplessness washed over him, echoing from the past, the feeling that it was in the end his fault. That something he had done, had caused things to be this way.

"Let me be." Dean whispered, feeling the numb exhaustion spread throughout his limbs like lead, washing the anger away in its wake. He closed his eyes to block out the angel, everything.

"Fine, Dean." Castiel spoke softly, and Dean half-expected to hear the sound of wings, but instead he heard a small shuffle when the angel settled down on his chair once again.

"I'll just be here." Dean didn't bother answering, but he felt the tight, cold knot inside him ease up a little, even though he was reluctant to admit it had anything to do with the angel. But it was enough that he slipped into dreamless, black sleep easier than before.

He woke up with a jolt sometime later. It was always disorienting to wake up in this room, and it took a moment when Dean groggily blinked away the bleary confusion. The morning gray had started to chase the shadows away, and there was a figure sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. _Sam_ , he thought automatically but recognized the ragged silhouette a heartbeat later. Castiel sat with his back straightened like a proper soldier, deep in thought. So he was still here. Dean was genuinely surprised, he hadn't thought guarding his sleep was Castiel's top priority when everything was going to shit with the world. _What a suck-up_ , he thought sourly, buying Dean's favor back by doing good deeds, however angels measured them. Dean's mouth tasted like ash and piss, and he made barely noticeable, disapproving sound in his parched throat. Castiel noticed the slight movement and turned his concerned gaze to Dean.

"How are you?" Dean grunted in answer to the pointless question and started maneuvering his upper body towards the edge of the bed. He clumsily reached for a water glass that had been placed ready there, fingers fumbling weakly for the glass. It was the drugs, Dean knew, but it felt like a personal slight that his body was working against him. He clenched his teeth together in frustration, and finally got the slippery bastard securely in his hand. All the while Castiel was looking at him intently, looking like he wanted to intervene but did not dare to. Dean shot a warning look at the angel, and Castiel's gaze quickly shifted to his lap and he gathered his hands on his lap like a disobedient child. Finally some real humility, Dean thought, and propped himself enough that he could drink. It was a slow process, one sip at a time through his split, swollen lips, and once he was finished and the glass was back on the bedside table, Dean collapsed against the mattress, breathing heavily. His whole head hurt like a motherfucker, and he had almost forgotten about the angel when Castiel started speaking again.

"I have been doing some soul-searching, so to speak, in the last hours. And I've realized I was wrong to leave you back then. My intentions may have been justified, but in this case the result was disastrous and you were left with this-" Castiel gestured vaguely towards Dean's face, "-outcome."

Dean stared blankly at Castiel. So he finally got it. At least some of it. Heaven had done no favors to his slowly emerging humanity; Dean thought he was even more daft than before. Still he found no energy to summon the feelings of petty resentment back. He had burned through his anger, anger that stemmed from a more primal place, and now only embers of it remained, souring his mood.

"Yeah Cass, it was a dick-move. What do you want me to say?" He said after a long pause, turning his hardened gaze towards the angel. He really didn't want to have this conversation. He really didn't want to expose any of his weaknesses to the other, or talk about his feelings. The words were a heavy understatement of the betrayal he had felt inside, but if one knew Dean Winchester, one knew to look for specific signs. And Castiel knew how to search for the little nuances, the way Dean pursed his lips, hardened his jaw and how his eyes mirrored every emotion he was feeling deep inside.

"Dean. I betrayed your trust. I hurt your feelings. I need to make it right." Castiel looked pained, like he could hardly believe anymore that he could still make amends.

And with that brutally honest plea, the hurt was back, an aching, suffocating feeling that clawed its way to Dean's throat. Suddenly he wasn't able to hide himself any longer, like every restraint he had was shedding away. He was unable to look away from Castiel, breathing unevenly to steady the sudden turmoil betraying his body. The angel got up hesitantly and with long strides walked to the edge of the bed. And this time Dean let him. Why couldn't he hide anything from the other, even though he tried to hold on? Why couldn't he cram back the messy feelings that threatened to surface when Castiel looked into his eyes? It had always been like that with them. Castiel brought out the insecurities and hidden fears in Dean, but also utter devotion, akin what he had for his brother. But with Castiel it was more fiery and unstable, as Dean couldn't always be sure where the angel's motives lay, but he knew he would die for Castiel in a second if need be.

"You left me, Cas. You just left me there." Dean whispered in a thick voice, letting out the hurt, holding Castiel's gaze with raw intensity. Castiel's deep blue eyes flooded with regret at Dean's blame. Such a human emotion to feel. Dean had taught him that.

"I waited for you to come back. I counted on you. But you didn't. And the way this works, I need to trust you got my back. Always."

"Dean, please forgive me." Castiel's voice was low, barely cutting above the heavy silence. Carefully he sat himself at the edge of the bed, and never breaking the eye contact, took Dean's hand carefully into his own. It was warm, Castiel's palm pressing against the back of his hand, fingers finding the steady pulse in his wrist.

"I would never leave you. And I will never leave you again." Castiel spoke so surely Dean envied his conviction. Angels had no reasons to cover their truths with masked lies, with them uncertainty played no part. They had never really talked about this, how far where they willing to go for each other, not even in mention, so Dean was quite shook by his words. He could've imagined Sam saying those words to him, but not anyone else.

"Okay", Dean was able to respond, a little more breathless with emotion that he would've liked Castiel to see. He eventually broke the eye contact, when the blue eyes and the whirlwind of feelings started to become too much at once. He really didn't like anyone seeing him at his weakest, but Castiel had bore down to the deepest, dark fears again, and made them a little less with his words. _I will never leave you._

"I'll hold you on for that", Dean said lightly, this time voice steadier, and he raised the corners of his lips into a uncertain smile. Castiel just smiled back without saying a word. It really brought out the light in him, the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled and small dimples appeared on his cheeks. It was such a uncharacteristic thing to see, the stern angel softened by a caring smile. They stayed like that for a while, and it felt easy, sharing the space, the warm touch, even the vulnerabilities.

"Okay then." Dean coughed finally. "Now this is getting just awkward." He was slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, suddenly needing to back away a little from the intense connection. Castiel just burrowed his eyebrows together in a way that always told Dean that the angel was innocently unaware of some parts of human interaction.

"Maybe little less hand holding and more healing?" Castiel seemed to take the hint, finally, and released his hand reluctantly.

"Do I have your permission now, Dean?" He asked so seriously that Dean let out a small chuckle. He was quite done laying around in this bed. It was time to go and be with his family.

"Yeah yeah, Don Juan. This ain't the friggin' prom. You can heal me. Dumbass."


End file.
